Free Soul Circus by George P. Pelecanos Page A

Juwan, “I spilt the ice cream.”
    “Yes, baby,” said Devra, “I know.”
    “Don’t worry about that,” said Strange. “You see that red cushion back there? My dog sleeps on that, and he has his run of the car. So I ain’t gonna worry about no ice cream. This here is my work vehicle, anyway.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Ain’t no thing,” said Strange. “Look here, what about Juwan’s father, then?”
    Devra shrugged. “He’s in Ohio now. They had him incarcerated out at Lorton, but they moved him a few months ago. Once a week, me and Juwan used to take the Metrobus, the one they ran special from the city, out there to see him. But now, with him so far and all, I don’t think Juwan’s even going to remember who his father is.”
    Strange nodded at the familiar story. A young man fathered a child, then went off to do his jail time, his “rite of passage.” Lorton, the local prison in northern Virginia, was slowly being closed down, its inhabitants moved to institutions much farther away. Lorton’s proximity to the District had allowed prisoners and their families to remain in constant contact, but that last tie between many fathers and their children was ending now, too. Juwan’s future, like the futures of many of the children who had been born into these circumstances, did not look promising.
    “Can’t Phil help you out with some money?”
    “Phil’s got no reason to give me money. He had a whole rack of girls. I was just one.”
    “But he paid you to stay away from court on that brutality rap.”
    “That was a one-time thing.”
    “I’m gonna need you to talk about it with me, you don’t mind.”
    “Talk about what?”
    “Well, the fact that he was beatin’ up on you, for one. Plus, the time you filed the original charges was about the same time some of the murders went down that they got Granville up on. Including the murder of his own uncle. So I need to know, did Phil ever discuss any of those murders with you? Or did you hear anything else about those murders from anyone close to Phil or Granville around that time?”
    “I got no reason to hurt Phil.”
    “It’s not about hurtin’ Phil. The prosecution’s gonna put him up on the stand to testify against Granville. What the defense does, they want to give a complete picture of the prosecution’s witness to the jury. If Wood was the kind of man who would take his hand to a woman, that’s something the jury ought to know. Throws a shadow, maybe, over the stuff he’s saying about Granville.”
    “How’s that gonna change anything? Ain’t nobody denying that they were in the life.”
    “True. But that’s how it works. Their side claims something and our side tries to refute it. Or make it more complicated than it really is.”
    “Sounds like bullshit to me.”
    “It is. But I’m still gonna need your help.”
    “I don’t know.” Devra looked out her open window, away from Strange. “I don’t want to get back into all that. I moved away from it, hear? I got my little boy. . . .”
    Strange turned his body so that he faced her. “Look here. They’re gonna try and put Granville to death. Some folks feel that only God gets to decide that. And a lot of folks in this city, they don’t see how killing another young black man is gonna solve any of the problems we got out here.”
    “Granville did his share of killin’, I expect.”
    “Maybe so, Devra. But this is about something more than just him.” Strange touched her hand. “It’s important. I need you to talk to me, young lady, tell me what you know.”
    “I gotta think on it,” she said.
    “Give me your phone number and the address where you’re stayin’ at, you don’t mind.”
    Stokes did this, and Strange wrote the information down. He withdrew his wallet and opened it.
    “Let me give you my business card,” said Strange. “Got a bunch of different numbers on it; you can reach me anytime.”
    Strange turned the ignition and drove the Caprice off the